I, Too, Tried to Smother Myself with a Horrible Turkey Drumstick as a Child

It’s just a passing phase.


Nice Snood, Dude

I seapouse yur full of tirkey to might I only had chicken but that was good & had a fime time a hunting

Admittedly when I first saw this postcard I thought “What is that disgusting thing hanging down over his nose?!” Not that it wasn’t rather fascinating-looking. It was.

There’s no address on this card, just a short note – and it looks to me as if the sender might have had a bit of whiskey along with his chicken that night. Maybe the card got tossed into a drawer and never sent out. Personally I’d be a bit wary of sending a note to someone with that thing sticking out on the front of the card.

What it actually is, is called a snood. Only male turkeys have this thing, and I searched to find something out about it. I’ve found out that

The snood is most likely used to attract a female because it looks like a long worm when fully grown.

Huh.  And

It only takes seconds for the snood to grow from an inch to almost a foot long.

Well, okay then. I’d like to see that.

It can be assumed that the snood is actually edible, in the same sense that poultry cockscombs are edible. We don’t package them up and sell them here in the United States in general but if you search long enough you may be able to find some if the urge strikes. There are a few recipes for traditional preparations in Larousse Gastronomique.

The ear of corn in his mouth is a nice touch. A gift perhaps, for his sweetheart. With snood drooping in such a charming fashion over the top of it.

Recipe, tomorrow. (And recipe yesterday, but just like jam no recipe today!)

(For more on wild turkey’s snoods with some lovely photos, see this site)

(And for some vintage dinner¬† plates which would be perfect to serve a lovely turkey on, look at Suzanne’s post.)

Twilight Zone and the Turkey Farm

There’s something really spooky about this ‘keepsake’ postcard of a turkey farm. Even the name of the place seems to have subtle overtones of the otherworldly. I mean really – “Fry Brothers”? And then the idea of a turkey ‘ranch’ (?) (what happened to farms for birds?) with the ‘dining rooms’ right next to it?

I’m no scaredy-cat or prissy missy when it comes to the fact that yes, we do have to kill our food before we eat it (unless we decide to eat it raw and wriggling) but really. There’s something either tactless or insinuatingly Twilight Zone-ish about this whole thing.

The photo itself looks as if aliens have come to take over the planet, and the fact that the back of the card bought as momento (momento? why?) of this place is blank, totally blank, seems to smack of some strange occurrence happening here. As a matter of fact, the back wouldn’t even take a clear photo. All fuzzy and strangely lit, every single time I tried.

I have to wonder if they made it out alive.

Nevertheless, Fry Bros. Turkey Ranch and Dining Rooms is in fact a real place still in operation, and it gets surprisingly good reviews. Just look at this one

I would highly recommend this restaurant to anyone I also stayed for a few nights at the turkey ranch. The whole atmosphere is out of this world and would come back again

“Out of this world???” (What did I tell you . . .!)

And then there is this one

If you go, get something that is turkey. Why go to a place called the Turkey Ranch and order anything else. We were just passing thru on the way to New York, but they were a great place to stop. If I take that route again, I would go here again.

What is this, code? “Get something that is turkey,” (?) But there is much philosophy in the end of the note. “If I take that route again . . .”

I have to ask myself – “What Would Robert Frost Do?”

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that, the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
two roads diverged in a wood, and I —
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.